Sixteen
by Babylon By Candlelight
Summary: Sixteen was supposed to be Mallory's salvation. But salvation comes in many forms...


**_Disclaimer: _**I own nothing you recognize. The Baby-Sitter's Club is owned by Ann M. Martin.

**_Author's Note:_** This is my first shot at a BSC fanfic, so please bear in mind it's new to me.

Sixteen was supposed to be my salvation.

Sophomore year changed a lot for me. No matter how hard I tried, it seemed that Jessi and I were drifting further apart. If I was honest, the separation began freshman year when she discovered that she _wasn't_ the only black girl at SHS, and started to become close with others of her skin colour. By January, she was breaking plans to hang out with Monique, the leader of her little group that Jessi had managed to assimilate into. I had met Monique, or as she demanded to be called, Shanika (apparently, _Monique_ wasn't 'black' enough for her) a few times, and I hated her instantly. She was beautiful for started, with long silky black hair that she often kept pulled back in a pony-tail, and a body to die for. Even Jessi, with all the help ballet had given her, couldn't compete with Shanika's form. It was partly for this reason that Jessi had been so desperate to become friends with her. Shanika was a junior, and there was status, power, and perks for being an underclassmen with upperclassmen connections.

It left me with no one, though. Ben Hobart and I hadn't spoken to each other in months, not since I broke up with him because of… well, I didn't want to think about that right now. I had tried hanging out with Kristy and Mary-Anne, but despite our after-school friendships in the BSC, there was no way that two seniors were going to be saddled with a lowly sophomore in public. Stacey and Claudia had dropped out of the BSC the year before, and Abby and Anna had moved back to Long Island after their mother transferred back to her previous office. In the end, it was just Mary-Anne, Kristy, Jessi and I left, even though Jessi hardly showed up to meetings anymore. She was too busy with Shanika.

Sixteen, however, would change everything. I looked forward to the day with both trepidation and excitement. This would be my year for sure. Everyone had always said that when I got older, I would turn into a great beauty. My hair would eventually settle down and become manageable, my glasses would fade into contacts, and my braces would be taken off. What better time to start all this physical shifting than the socially accepted journey into adult-hood? It was only fair, after all.

I was awake before dawn on the day I would turn sixteen, ready to face anything. I felt untouchable. I was now allowed to wear make-up, as of three hours ago. I stepped into the shower, washed my hair thoroughly, and got out the blow dryer. I was going to start making an effort on my appearance, because everything was soon going to change in my favour. I was still fairly flat-chested, and though I knew it was ridiculous, I was a bit disappointed that my breasts hadn't grown overnight. Still, I wasn't going to let that ruin my day. Not when this was _my_ day.

Half an hour later, all I had succeeded in doing was teasing my hair into a frizzed mess. Sighing, I resigned myself to the fact that I would never have silky, rested locks of hair, and simply pulled the tangles into a pony-tail. It seemed safest after the disaster I had made it. I reached into the hutch drawers in the bathroom and pulled out my mother's make-up kit; this was what I had really been looking forward to, after all. I pulled out her concealer, ignoring the fact that my mother had skin several shades darker than my own ivory. It wouldn't matter, after all, since I planned to use it on my entire face. After dabbing it on and smearing it around, trying to get the toner even, I put on some eye shadow (pink, since it was the only colour available), and bright red lipstick. I added some mascara and a bit of pink blush to my cheeks, and grinned.

After 'putting on my face' (I giggled to myself as I thought that), I pulled on a hot pink tank top and a tight, light blue mini-skirt that showed off my legs. I winced, having forgotten to shave my legs, but there wasn't enough time. I'd simply have to hope no one could see the prickly black hairs. I didn't have any sexy shoes, so I simply made do with my bright orange sneakers. I'd buy some better shoes later, maybe some sandals or high-tops. That would be so _distant_. (Distant is a word my friends and I made up five years ago; I'm the only one who still uses all our special lingo.)

I got to school, and beamed with pride as everyone stared at me. I knew I looked good, so I stuck my (or what little) chest I had out and walked confidently through the halls, smirking at all the whispers. Little Mallory Pike _had_ grown up, hadn't she? Maybe Justin Price, that hottie I'd been eyeing for a few weeks now, would finally ask me out. Of course, I'd play coy to make him chase me, but I might even let him hold my hand if he played his cards right!

"Mallory?" Came a gasp to my right, and I turned to see Stacey McGill, a former member of the BSC, standing next to me. I smiled at her excitedly, though I had to squint to make out who it was, as I had left my glasses at home.

"Hey Stacey, what's up?" I asked, brushing a few strands of frizzy hair that managed to work its way loose from my hair tie out of my face.

"What… what happened to you?" she stammered, her eyes wide. I couldn't help but grin a bit more; she was obviously jealous of my fashion sense and outfit coordination. Stacey had always thought she was the fashion major of the BSC; well, she had another think coming.

"I grew up, Stacey. I thought you of all people would recognize a fashion statement when she saw it," I replied, before giving her a cool stare and walking off. She could eat her heart out; just because I looked so hot while she was wearing the same clothes she wore last year was no reason for her to try to ruin my birthday high.

I made it to homeroom, where it went silent as I walked to my seat. Even my teacher, Mr. Clark, stared at me as I sat down. I gave him a sultry smirk; he was the hottest teacher on campus, and it seemed that I had finally drawn him in with my sexy outfit. But it was Justin that my heart truly belonged to; poor Mr. Clark would be so disappointed. I looked over at said Justin, who couldn't take his eyes off me, his eyes just as wide as Stacey's had been. I gave him a small wink and licked my lips. He blinked rapidly and turned away, punching his friend Damien in the arm and whispering to him. Damien looked over at me as well, let out a short laugh, and whispered back.

Was it possible that Justin liked me as much as I liked him? I started feeling sweaty from anticipation. Maybe by the end of the day, I would be his girlfriend!

"Whoa… are you advertising for the circus or something?" Benny Ott, the boy I hated above all others at YHS, came up beside me and asked, laughing out loud. "I gotta say, Pike, I thought you couldn't get any uglier, but you sure proved me wrong!" With that, he walked away, and I was left stunned. Still, it was only Benny Ott – who cared what he thought? Justin at least seemed to like how I looked, and that was what mattered. I kept walking to my next class, which was of course, gym.

Sweating had left little streaks of mascara and concealer down my face, and no matter how I tried to smooth it out, my face now had three different shades on it; tan, cream, and stark white. Still, I figured it wasn't all that noticeable, and at least I had gotten the mascara under control. Lunch was coming now, and I was hoping that Justin would find the courage to sit with me, since no one had sat with me since Jessi left. I was disappointed to find that he was already sitting at a table when I walked in the cafeteria, but perhaps turning sixteen had infused me with confidence I never had before, since I walked right over to the table and sat across from Justin. We were the only ones there so far, so I gathered up my nerve and smiled.

"Hi, Justin," I said sweetly, smiling at him.

"Uhh… hi," he responded, looking a little confused. His friends walked up just then, shooting him bewildered glances, as though asking him what I was doing there at their table. He merely gave them a shrug, and I inwardly beamed. He wasn't making me leave! I nearly melted.

"So, I was wondering…" I continued, trying to convince myself it was a good idea, since he obviously wasn't going to make the first move, "I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me Saturday night? We could go see a movie or something."

Dead silence fell over the table and all heads swiveled to look at Justin, who had gone a very unbecoming shade of purple. Damien seemed to be shaking, though I wasn't sure why. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry," Justin replied, talking quickly and shooting Damien a look, "I have to go visit my grandma that weekend. Damien, we should go to the library, we have that research project for Hart to finish…" With that, the two got up and nearly bolted from the table. I stood up too, going towards the door to sit at my regular, lonely table, when I heard them talking in the hall.

"Dude, your grandma's been dead for two years. You couldn't have come up with a better excuse?" Damien was saying, laughing slightly.

"Whatever man, you try coming up with something that fast. I don't even know that girl, Mandy or whatever, what was I supposed to say? 'Sorry, I don't date ugly chicks'? Let's go play some basketball, man, I'm tired of talking about this."

They walked down the hall, presumably to the basketball courts. I sat in my chair, unable to move, staring at my lunch tray. _I don't date ugly chicks_ ran through my head, over and over, a merciless taunt. A shadow fell over me and I turned to look up to see how was standing behind me, only to see Jessi, who was staring at me with a mixture of horror and… pity? "Mallory, what happened to your face?" she asked softly.

"I'm… I'm just wearing make-up," I whispered, trying to keep the tears from falling down my face.

"Make-up? Is that what they call it these days? It looks like you fell in a vat of Crayola wax," came a voice behind her. Shanika. "Come on Jessi, let's go, this freak isn't worth our time."

I stared at Jessi pleadingly, begging her for once not to choose Shanika over me. She merely looked back at me for a moment, before nodding and turning to go. The other black girls around Shanika smirked, but she herself lingered back for a moment. Her face turned into a friendly smile, and for a moment, I felt confusion rise in me. Then she reached into her purse and pulled something out, tossed it onto my lunch tray, and smirked again.

"It's called a razor, sweetie. Learn to use one before wearing a skirt again. Or better yet, _don't_ wear a skirt again. You're blinding everyone with those white sticks."

And then they were gone.

I left school early that day, begging off with a nauseous stomach. I think the nurse just felt sorry for me, because she didn't even take my temperature. My mom was home when I walked through the front door.

"Oh, Mal, I'm glad you're home," she called, obviously not even bothering to notice the tear stains down my cheeks, or that school wouldn't be out for another two hours. "I'm going to need you to watch the kids tonight, your dad and I are going to Stamford and won't be back until late."

"How do you know I'm not busy, huh?" I yelled back, pausing at the stairs. I heard my mother laugh softly before she responded.

"Oh, good one honey. Seriously though, we're leaving at five, so you'll need to pick Claire up from soccer practice," came her reply before she walked back into the kitchen. I ran up the stairs and slammed the door to my room, glad that I had it to myself before Vanessa got home.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, I thought as I sobbed into my pillow. My life had been so horrible for months, and today was supposed to change everything. Well, it had, but not for the better. I wouldn't be able to face Justin or any of his friends ever again, and what was worse was that Jessi and Shanika had witnessed my humiliation, which means that by tomorrow everyone in school would know. I didn't think that my parents would go for the boarding school idea again, especially since I had changed my mind once in going away for school, and then again in coming home. It was in this moment that I realized that I truly hated my life. I felt like dying.

My eyes then lingered on the razor Shanika had thrown at me. _Learn to use one,_ she had said. I picked it up, moved it over my wrist, and hesitated. I thought of losing Jessi, of Kristy and Mary-Anne's coolness towards me. Of Stacey's hidden smirk this morning. And finally of everything that had happened today. I made a gash in my right wrist, tearing furiously at my skin until blood flowed freely. I winced slightly at the pain, the changed hands with the razor.

I now hovered over my left wrist, wondering if I could do this. If I wanted to do this. I pressed the blade to my skin, wavering.

_I don't date ugly chicks…_

And then I pressed down.


End file.
